


Feng Shui

by champagneleftie



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Cohabitation, Evakteket Challenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:17:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagneleftie/pseuds/champagneleftie
Summary: “Even!” Isak says, indignant, affronted. “I miss kissing. Kissing is nice.”Even misses kissing too. That was nice. Kissing Sonja was nice. She smelled nice. Isak smells nice.Even has a brilliant idea.“You could kiss me!”For Evakteket's 6-month anniversary challenge.





	Feng Shui

**Author's Note:**

> I had hoped to write something better for Evakteket's 6-month challenge, something that could accurately represent how much I love it, and how great it is. Alas, that was not to be! You get this instead.
> 
> Kit and Immy - you are amazing, Evakteket is amazing, this challenge was so.fucking.hard. (but amazing). Also so much love to you both, Nofeartina and bri_ness for all the encouragment when I've whined about this on tumblr (where I'm @champagneleftie as well, hint hint), and Anna who has to listen to me whine in real life. 
> 
> The title has basically nothing to do with the fic - it's a song by Sakarias - but it includes the amazing lyric "This view is classic- I mean the skyline is okay but you're fantastic" (Den här utsikten den är klassisk - jag menar skylinen är okej, men du är helt fantastisk), and I guess it's vaguely related to interior design, so... I really just wanted an excuse to reference the song.

It’s Sana’s idea, originally.

Of course it’s Sana’s idea.

Because Sana sees. She watches, and she sees.

Not because she has a magical hijab, like Mikael likes to joke whenever she looks through their half baked excuses to her and Elias’ parents or try to cover up failed pranks. Not because she’s a genius, like Elias proudly proclaims whenever she’s out of earshot.

Sana watches, and Sana sees, because Sana has been forced to learn to watch, and to notice, and to see. She’s been forced to learn to hear when a seemingly innocent string of questions will end up on the topic of genital mutilation. She’s learned to see which looks are just looks, and which may lead to words called after her, spit on her clothes, hands grabbing at her hijab.

Sana’s been forced to watch, and see, for herself. She chooses to watch, and see, others.

She sees when Vilde is not just being clueless, but hurting.

She sees when Noora is fighting a battle between her feelings and her thoughts.

She sees when Chris doesn’t realise her worth as a friend.

And she sees when Isak, in the wake of Noora’s return from London, needs a home.

So it’s Sana’s idea, originally, that Isak take the third bedroom in the apartment Even and Mikael are subletting, an apartment that is really a bit too big for them, and definitely too expensive, and thus really needs a third person. And even if Mikael and Even barely know Isak they know Sana – and more importantly, Sana knows them, and when she threatens to tell her parents about the alcohol they drink, the weed they smoke, and the time they broke one of her mother’s vases (an accident that was, instead, blamed on Sana and Elias’ older brother) – effectively banning them from eating her mother’s food ever again – they accept Isak without much question. It’s just common sense, really: they should be three people in a three bedroom apartment – and the food they get at the Bakkoush house is a significant relief for their food budget – money that can be spent on much better things, such as aforementioned weed, and alcohol.

But Even can’t help worrying.

That Isak will be too much, too on, too social. That he won’t get that Even and Mikael both need their alone time. That he’ll talk through movies, or leave a mess, or throw loud parties.

So when Isak is none of those things, Even is quick to consider him a friend.

Isak is a good roommate – unassuming, quiet. Does his part of the cleaning – and more, sometimes. Washes the dishes when Even has had a bout of inspiration and covered the kitchen in cutting boards and mixing bowls and the cut ends of various vegetables. Shares his snacks. Keeps to his own room, or joins Even and Mikael when they watch movies, quietly amused at their enthusiasm for the cinematography, the acting, the light.

When Sana sees them together, arguing about the right way to sort their garbage, she smiles like she knows something.

 

II.

The first time it happens is after a party – Even can never remember who’s. They’re on the couch in their living room, both too high, and too wasted, and Mikael moved on to an afterparty with some girl and is probably not coming home until morning. Even knows he shouldn’t drink too much or smoke so often, but every time he thinks this he hears Sonja’s voice, and so he doesn’t listen. Because Sonja’s voice still annoys him, still, after three months apart. Because it makes him feel like a child. Because he just wants to be anyone else than Sonja’s Even.

Isak is complaining about the fact that there are never any gay guys at the parties he goes to. Actually, he’s past complaining and has lapsed into philosophising. There are, apparently, no gay guys at Nissen. Or rather, no hot gay guys. There’re probably some in the drama programme, he muses, furrowing his brow in concentration. The thought that Isak is very cute slips into, and then out of, Even’s mind. Isak’s head snaps up when he remembers that there’s also Julian! Julian’s gay! But then he’s sad again when he remembers that Julian is weird. Julian wore a suit to school once. He stalked Isak on instagram. That’s weird.

Even thinks that he doesn’t want Isak to be sad.

Isak pouts.

He hooked up more when he was in the closet, he tells Even. He didn’t want to hook up with girls, but at least he could.

He misses kissing.

“Even!” He says, indignant, affronted. “I miss kissing. Kissing is nice.”

Even misses kissing too. That was nice. Kissing Sonja was nice. She smelled nice. Isak smells nice.

Even has a brilliant idea.

“You could kiss me!”

Brilliant.

Isak seems to agree that it’s a great idea, because all of a sudden his lips are on Even’s, and Even was right. Isak does smell nice. Even wonders if he tastes as good as he smells, so he tries to taste Isak’s lips with the tip of his tongue, and Isak opens his mouth and their kisses grow deeper. Slow and deep and intense.

Later, Even will justify it to himself as having been caught up in the moment, and on the fact that neither of them were sober, and thus not thinking clearly. And it’s true that when it happens, he can only focus on the way Isak smells, and how soft his hair is, and how great of a kisser he is – and then, later, in bed – how Isak’s hand feels on his dick, and Isak’s dick in his mouth. He tries very hard not to notice how his stomach surges as Isak's fingers brush his cheek, or how, afterwards, when Isak slips out of his room as Even fakes sleep, and he hears first the click of his own door and then of Isak's, his single bed feels too big for one person.

 

III.

The second time it happens, it’s a regular Tuesday.

Actually, Tuesday’s become Wednesday by now. It’s two in the morning and Even can’t sleep.

Even doesn't normally have any trouble sleeping (he tells himself, blatantly, willfully ignoring the times he’s gone days without it, high on his unpredictable mind, before crashing into nothing but sleep – but that is not this), but a too-late cup of coffee, an unexpected bout of inspiration for his Westerdals application, and the discovery that he was, for once, online at the same time as his cousin in Hong Kong had all converged and led to this – getting up again to fetch a glass of water, after tossing and turning for well over an hour, hoping that leaving his bed will somehow prompt some sleepiness.

Apparently, Isak had the same idea.

“What are you doing here?” He frowns when Even enters the kitchen. “You’re not usually up at this time.”

Even raises his eyebrows in response. “How would you know?”

At that, Isak’s frown smooths out, and he looks out the window, clearly a little embarrassed.

“Ehm, well, I usually am.” He takes a sip of his water. “I don’t sleep well.”

Oh. Even did not know that. The downside to having a decent sleep schedule is, apparently, that it passes right by you when one of your roommates doesn’t. Maybe he should have noticed that Isak is usually the last one to go to bed and the first in the kitchen in the morning, brewing coffee so strong it’s undrinkable, movements slow and sluggish, barely reacting to Mikael and Even rushing to get ready around him – only to sleep past noon every weekend.

“Just… never?”

Isak shrugs, trying to look casual about it.

“Not for the last few years. It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

Even’s heard enough about the importance of sleeping well, from Sonja especially (one of her many methods and tricks and rules to keep him in control (controlled)) to know that that’s not true. But he has also heard enough, from Sonja especially, to know that there’s no point in lecturing Isak. He’s an adult (well, more or less), and basically a genius, at that – he knows this just as well as Even.

“So do you have any tricks to fall asleep?” he asks instead. Maybe he’ll learn something.

Isak shrugs again.

“I don’t know, nothing special. Read something boring. Count sheep.” He smirks a little, glances at Even. “Jerk off.”

Even snorts, mostly out of surprise. He’s heard Isak talk about sex with his friends – mostly ribbing Magnus because he’s not getting any, or comparing exploits – but the two of them usually don’t have that kind of jargon. Maybe it’s because they’re just not that close yet.

Maybe it’s because it’s weird to joke about sex with someone you’ve hooked up with.

They haven’t talked about it since it happened. The morning after, Isak had slept late into the afternoon as usual (Even supposes – he had at least stayed in his room) and when he had emerged Elias, Mutta, Adam and Yousef were there, and the right moment just never appeared. And after a few days had passed, and everything had, as far as Even could tell, gone back to normal – it just felt weird, bringing it up out of nowhere.

But now – the idea of Isak stroking himself, slowly, lazily, bringing himself off, hoping that it will relax him enough to lull him to sleep – it send currents of electricity through Even’s veins. He swallows, trying to calm himself. He’s gone too far down this road before, in his crush on Mikael – even if Isak is gay, nothing good will come of thinking of him like that. They live together, they’re friends.

Isak grins back.

“What, you don’t sleep better after you’ve come?” he laughs, apparently interpreting Even’s snort as disbelief. He has a glint in his eye that Even normally associates with the dares that he’s sometimes roped into by Magnus, Mahdi and Jonas – deep-throating a bottle (and okay, maybe that’s not an image Even should be conjuring right after having to remind himself that he and Isak are just friends), chugging beer the fastest, eating the most burgers. It turns out he’s not far off.

Isak takes a step towards him.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

Even should never have questioned Isak’s genius. After Isak blows him he sleeps through his alarm.

 

IV.

It becomes a semi-regular thing after that. Not regular-regular – weeks will go by without anything happening, a month – but Even keeps ending up in bed with Isak. Because Even’s having a down day. Because Isak’s stressed about exams. Because they’re just horny.

It’s just sex.

The morning after the second time, Even almost collides with Isak, wrapped in just a towel, exiting the bathroom. They’ve seen each other, and Mikael, in various stages of undress countless times by now – rummaging through each other’s closets, looking for lost shirts, in just boxers on the way to the bathroom in the morning, in robes at breakfast. But there’s something about the fact that Isak’s nakedness is no longer just a body, like any body, any guy in the gym showers or at the beach, that makes the hairs on Even’s arms stand up. Isak won’t look him in the eye, just mumbles an apology and tries to get past. And Even feels responsible. He is, after all, more than two years older than Isak. He should know better. He’s the one who has to make this not awkward. So as Isak angles his body away from Even, tries to pass his so that neither his dick nor his ass brushes Even’s hip, Even puts a hand on his shoulder and says, in a voice low enough that he’s sure that Mikael, still in his room, won’t hear –

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just sex, right? We’re just friends.”

And Isak shifts his weight a couple of times, a firmer grip on his towel, looks up at Even, and finally nods.

Things are almost excruciatingly normal after for a few days after that. Even finds himself trying way to hard to include Isak in conversations, ask him about his day, treat him the same as Mikael – what do they even talk about, usually? But then on Friday the three of them smoke with Jonas and Mahdi, and somewhere in the middle of a conversation on the vastness of the universe and the possibility of other Earth-like planets, everything falls into place again, and they’re fine.

The biggest problem is hiding it from Mikael.

Even doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Doesn’t want to make it weird between him and Isak. Knows that Mikael is still upset with Sonja, how she treated Even like a child, how she looked down on their friends. He knows that Mikael is convinced that Even needs some space, needs some time to be free, unattached, now that he’s single again after four years in a relationship. And even if Even manages to convince himself that this thing with Isak isn’t actually a thing – it’s a release valve, it’s fun, it’s nothing – he’s not sure he could convince Mikael of the same thing.

Isak seems to realise this as well.

It lowers the amount of opportunities they have significantly. Even tells himself it doesn’t matter, that if they never had sex again he wouldn’t miss it, would just go back to hooking up with random people at parties and his hand on weekdays – but he can’t shake the thought that if this were a movie, a romantic comedy maybe, and he and Isak were the leads, the couple that you know will end up together after they tackle a long line of silly obstacles – the sneaking around could be sort of romantic.

 

V.

Even isn’t supposed to give his friends free refills when they come to Kaffebrenneriet, but as long as his boss isn’t there, he does anyway. This means that Isak has started to come by after school a lot. He divides his time between studying diligently, bothering Even when he’s supposed to be helping customers, and complaining that Even is bothering him when the café is empty and Isak is trying to pretend to be a good student.

Even sometimes finds himself musing on how different his friendship with Isak is from his other friendships.

His friendship with Mikael, Elias, Adam, Mutta, and Yousef is loud and boisterous, full of shouting and challenges and colorful, mocking commentary. Whatever your opinion, there is always someone ready to lovingly tease you for it – Mikael will tease Even about his love of romantic movies and shitty taste in music, Even will tease Yousef about his obvious crush on Sana, Yousef will tease Elias about his lack of basketball skills, Elias will tease Adam about his bad luck will girls, and Adam will tease Mutta his lack of common knowledge. Mutta will laugh at everything, and never tease anyone back.

With Isak, there’s still teasing – but it’s in the form of badly hidden compliments and encouragement. Even will try to shoo Isak away from the counter when a line is starting to form, and Isak will put his hands up and apologise for standing in the way of the many fans of his excellent coffee – seriously Even, are you going to leave me and go to Italy and teach them how to make better cappuccinos? Isak will complain that Even is distracting him from his homework, and Even will grovel and ask the world to please forgive him if Isak does not find the solution to global warming or the cure for aids in the next five minutes. And Isak always rolls his eyes and laughs, and Even’s stomach always does somersaults.

It’s one of the quiet days today. Isak has a paper due tomorrow (Norwegian, so double the grumbling), and Even is doing his best to get his attention by waltzing with the mop and singing along to the pop playing in the background, which is in no way a waltz. He can see that Isak is close to cracking – his lips are pursed like he’s trying desperately not to smile, and he hasn’t written anything for several minutes – when the door opens, and new customers enter. It takes Even a second to stop singing, and when Isak realises his embarrassment he finally looks up at him and grins like he’s won a prize. Even has to take another second to grin back before he turns to the customer.

It is in that second that the same voice that still nags him in his head about his sleep and his smoking and his drinking suddenly says,

“Hi Even.”

Sonja. He hasn’t seen her since graduation. The first thing he notices is that she looks older. Her hair, her clothes – she looks like an adult. Even, in his apron, with his hair standing up from sweat and running his hand through it too many times, is suddenly very aware that he does not.

“Sonja. Hi.”

Next to Sonja is a guy – no, a man. An actual, grown up man. A solid, steady man. With a beard. He has his hand on the small of her back, and his eyes travel back and forth between her face and Even’s.

“How’ve you been?” she asks, and she sounds so in control, of her emotions, of the situation, of everything, that Even wants to flip a table, just to see her react.

“Good.” He tries to keep his gaze steadily on her, tries to convey the same kind of confidence, but keeps looking away. At the floor. Over her shoulder. At the man.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Isak look at him. He can’t tell definitely from this angle, but he thinks he looks concerned.

Sonja must have noticed him looking at the man, because she turns her body towards him and smiles.

“This is Anders. My boyfriend.”

Of course he is. What else?

Anders the boyfriend holds out his hand, first to Even, and then, Even realises when he hears him say his name, to Isak. His handshake is firm and professional, like he shakes a lot of hands, often.

Sonja looks from Isak, to Even, and tilts her head a little. He recognises it as her asking a silent question.

In the same moment that Even says it, he knows it’s a bad idea. He knows it’s not fair to Isak. He knows that Sonja can probably see right through it. But the words have already left his mouth.

“Isak’s my boyfriend. We live together.”

Isak looks shocked. Bowled over. Terrified. Sonja purses her lips in doubt.

Fuck. He should have just flipped a table.

“Did you want coffee?”

He apologises to Isak, afterwards. Or, he tries to apologize. Tries to explain, tries to tell him about Sonja, about their relationship, about how he always feels like such a mess next to her. Like a kid. Tries to tell him that he wasn’t thinking, he doesn’t know why he said it, he could have said it about anyone, it could just as well have been Mikael – or maybe not Mikael, since Sonja knows him, but Magnus maybe, or someone else, and fuck, sorry, really, it meant nothing.

Isak just shrugs it off and closes his computer, packs up his things.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t look at Even, just pulls on his jacket and moves towards the door.

“I’ll see you at home.”

But when Even gets home, Isak’s door is closed, and he doesn’t emerge for the rest of the night.

 

VI.

Even hardly sees Isak at all until it’s suddenly Saturday, and Elias drags all of them to a party hosted by Isabell from their old class. As Even watches Isak talk to Mikael, and Mutta, and Adam, and Yousef and Sana, he’s starting to feel like he’s being avoided. But the party’s loud, and crowded, and Isak is soon lost to the crowd. Even drinks another beer and tries not to worry about it. They spend too much time together anyway, so it’s not that strange that Isak wants to hang out with other people when it’s finally weekend.

After his fourth beer, Even starts to miss Isak. He’s talking to Sana and Yousef, and he keeps thinking of smart things that Isak has said, and he wants him to know that he’s probably much smarter than Sana, whatever Yousef claims, and if he was here they could compare.

He should find Isak.

He interrupts Yousef in the middle of a sentence to tell them this. Yousef raises an eyebrow at him and Sana smirks. It feels like they’re implying something, but he can’t bring himself to care right now, because he has to find Isak and tell him how smart he is. He starts pushing through the crowd, peeking into various rooms. He’s not in the living room, or the bathroom, or the bedroom where they left their coats.

He’ll check the kitchen, next. If nothing else, there’s more beer in the kitchen. Even’s is empty now.

When he enters the kitchen, Even feels too many emotions at once.

Isak is there, which makes him so happy he wants to laugh.

But Isak is leaning on the counter, his hands in the hair of a boy Even doesn’t know. The boy’s hands are on Isak’s hips, and they’re kissing enthusiastically. Even wants to cry. He wants to push the boy away from Isak. He wants to scream.

He can’t get out of there fast enough.

Mikael looks up from where he’s talking to one of Isabell’s friends as Even stalks by. He catches up to him when Even’s already out of the yard, on his way to the bus stop, and grabs his arm.

“Even! Hey! What’s the matter?”

Mikael is panting from trying to catch him. Mikael ran after him. Mikael is a true friend.

Even kisses him.

Forcefully. Furiously.

Mikael pushes him off immediately.

“What the fuck Even?” He doesn’t sound angry, just confused, but Even is asking himself the same question, and can’t form the words to answer him.

What the fuck is he doing.

He turns away from Mikael and keeps walking as fast as his long legs can manage. Mikael can’t seem to make his limbs move.

When Even wakes up the next morning Isak hasn’t come home.

 

VII.

Silence fills the apartment over the next week. The bedroom doors are all shut. There are no movie nights. No wild cooking experiments. No banter. The only evidence Even has that his two roommates are still living in the apartment are the clicks of their doors as they peek out into the hallway to make sure to avoid each other on the way to the bathroom, or the kitchen.

Even knows he needs to apologise to Mikael. Explain. But he doesn’t understand what happened with Isak. He’s already told him he was sorry, and Isak said they were fine! If anything, Isak should apologise to him for kissing someone else (even if they are only friends. Nothing more than friends).

It’s Thursday when Even can finally bring himself to tap on Mikael’s bedroom door. When he enters, Mikael is sitting in bed with his laptop, watching a movie with headphones on. Even doesn’t recognise it, but from the frozen image on the screen he assumes it’s an action movie.

It feels significant that Mikael would do this without him. Watch a movie that he knows Even would mock him about, without commentary. In complete silence. It’s a chip in their friendship, a piece missing. A shift, since Even pounced on Mikael, and left.

Even rubs his neck, buying time.

“Can I sit?” he asks, and Mikael nods and places his laptop to the side.

They sit side by side on the bed, like they always used to do when they lived at home and hung out in each other’s bedrooms. Even realises that he’s barely been in Mikael’s room since Isak moved in. They’re always in the living room, or the kitchen – neutral spaces. He wonders if Isak’s ever been in Mikael’s room, and when Mikael last hung out in Even’s.

Mikael’s sheet is a bit frayed at the seam. Even picks at it as he tries to remember what he wanted to say.

The best he can come up with is,

“I’m sorry.”

Mikael nods.

“Okay.”

They sit in awkward silence. Mikael swallows audibly. He has his hands in his laps and is picking at his cuticles.

“Why did you do it?”

It’s like neither of the want to utter the word kiss in relation to… well, to them.

Even considers Mikael’s question.

Why did he?

Thoughts are hurtling towards him, like the stars at a spaceship going into hyperdrive. He can’t pin down a why.

At last, he says the first thing that comes to his mind, the one thing that stands out, louder than all his other thoughts:

“Isak kissed someone else.” And it fucking hurt.

Surprise is written all over Mikael’s face, in his raised eyebrows and open mouth.

“He cheated on you?”

“What?” Even doesn’t understand what Mikael’s saying. “We’re not together. We’re just friends.”

Mikael looks like he thinks Even is messing with him.

“No, you’ve been together for months! I’m not stupid, I know you’ve been hooking up.”

Even wonders how he can possibly know, but there’s not really any point in denying it by now.

“Just hooking up!”

“Huh. I really thought you were dating.” Mikael is bemused. “You’re always so… I don’t know, couply. Like with the banter, and you’re so sweet to each other and shit?” He shakes his head, incredulous. “Fuck, this is like Sana and Yousef all over again. I can’t believe we thought Adam was bad at getting with people.”

“Hey!” Even has to voice his protest at that, because if anything, this whole thing proves that he has game – he hooked up with Isak, didn’t he?

“Whatever. You need to talk to him.”

It’s only much later that Even realises that Mikael thought Even was the one who cheated on Isak. When he comes to Mikael with his epiphany, Mikael laughs at him.

“Yeah, I thought I was going to have to side with Isak against you. That would have been fucking weird, man.”

 

VIII.

The atmosphere in the apartment is still too thick with misunderstanding, so Even asks Isak to come for a walk with him. It’s a testament to the gravity with which he asks that Isak doesn’t even attempt to complain, just nods and puts on his jacket.

The January air is crisp and cold. The sky is clear, and beyond the streetlights and the yellow light pouring out of the apartment buildings around them they can sense the stars.

They walk in silence at first, both of them with their hands buried deep in their pockets, staring straight ahead. Even tries to think of what to say. How do you tell someone – not someone, but your roommate, your friend – that you’re in love with them? That the idea of them being with someone else makes you feel like you chest has been opened up, your heart removed and stomped on? It was easier when he was fifteen. Less ambiguous – he made out with Sonja at a party, and after that they were a couple. Easy.

While Even’s busy trying to figure this out, Isak speaks.

“Do you want me to move out?” He pulls up his shoulders when he says this, so that his mouth is almost entirely covered by his huge scarf. Even barely hears him.

“What?” Isak moving out is the last thing Even wants. Why would he think that?

“I know I made it awkward after the whole Sonja thing. I know you don’t like me… like that, so. I can move out. I just need some time to find a new place. Or maybe I can move back with Eskild and Linn and Noora, for a while. If you want me to move now.” It all comes out rushed, like Isak has practiced what to say.

Even is stunned. His brain can’t process this divergence from the script he’d written in his mind. The only thing he can think to say is,

“But… I do like you?”

Isak stops. Even almost walks into a lamppost.

“What?” Isak furrows his brow, like he always does when he’s confused, when a math problem stumps him or he doesn’t understand Even and Mikael’s movie references. “But… you said that you could have told Sonja that anyone was your boyfriend. You said that you could have told her Magnus was your boyfriend. So obviously you don’t, and you were trying to let me down easy because you could tell I liked you, and you didn’t want to make it weird.”

Even hears echoes of the time Sana and Isak studied biology together in their kitchen in Isak’s analysis.

Somehow, he manages to focus on the important part.

“You like me?”

“Yeah?”

“Then why did you kiss that guy?”

_"Because you said we were just friends!”_

Maybe Even should know by now that it’s a bad idea to go around kissing your friends, but he can’t help himself. In two long strides he is in front of Isak, who is staring at him with such a mix of emotions in his eyes that it makes Even dizzy: hurt. Anger. Sadness. Resignation. But also a faint, faint glow of hope. It shines like a match lit in a dark room.

Even takes Isak's face between his hands.

“I lied.”


End file.
